"And they all flew away?" "Nay, sir, they didn't; they stopped there a-twittering. But if that gun had been loaded, and I'd touched it off with a fire-stick, it would have warmed their toes, eh? But would you clean up the old guns?" "I don't see why you shouldn't, Ben. They're valuable." "Vallerble? I should think they are, sir. And, do you know, I will; for who knows what might happen? They tell me down in the village that there's trouble uppards, and people gets talking agen the king. Ah! I'd talk 'em if I had my way, and make some of 'em squirm.--Yes, I will tidy things up a bit. Startle some on 'em if we was to fire off a gun or two over the village." "They'd burst, Ben. Haven't been fired for a hundred years, I should say. Those brass guns were made in Queen Elizabeth's time." "Oh, they wouldn't burst, sir; I shouldn't be afraid of that.--But this is not learning to thrust, is it?" "No. Come on," cried Roy, and he took one of the stout ash rods. "Here, hadn't I better put on this helmet?" "Not yet, sir. You can practise thrusting without that. Now then, here I am, sir. All ready for you on my guard. Now, thrust." Ben dropped into an easy position, with his legs a little bent, one foot advanced, his left hand behind him, and his stick held diagonally across his breast. Roy imitated him, dropping into the same position. "Where shall I stab you?" he cried. "Just wherever you like, sir,--if you can." The boy made a quick dart forward with his stick, and it passed by his teacher, who parried with the slightest movement of his wrist. "I said thrust, sir." "Well, I did thrust." "That wasn't a thrust, sir; that was only a poke. It wouldn't have gone through a man's coat, let alone his skin. Now, again!" The boy made another push forward with his stick, which was also parried. "Nay, that won't do, my lad; so let's get to something better. Now, I'm going to thrust at you right in the chest. Enemies don't tell you where they're going to hit you, but I'm going to tell you. Now, look out!" Roy prepared to guard the thrust, but the point of the old man's stick struck him sharply in the chest, and he winced a little, but smiled. "Now, sir, you do that, but harder." Roy obeyed, but failed dismally. "Of course," said Ben. "Now that's because you didn't try the right way, sir. Don't poke at a man, but throw your arm right back till you get your hand level with your shoulder, and sword and arm just in a line. Then thrust right out, and let your body follow your arm,--then you get some strength into it. Now, once more." Roy followed his teacher's instructions. "Better--ever so much, sir. Now again--good; again--good. You'll soon do it. Now, can't you see what a lot of weight you get into a thrust like that? One of your pokes would have done nothing. One like that last would have sent your blade through a man. Now again."